


you take my breath away

by whiplash



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Deaf Character, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, internal ableism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:49:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24271615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiplash/pseuds/whiplash
Summary: “Can I,” Callum says, his hands already reaching for Ben’s glasses.Maybe he means it as a question, maybe there’s a pitch to his voice that other people would have caught, but now it’s just this: Callum’s lips moving and then his hands. The world goes blurry. Ben opens his mouth, a belated‘don’t’on his lips, but he doesn’t get a chance to speak before they’re kissing.
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 12
Kudos: 101





	you take my breath away

“Can I,” Callum says, his hands already reaching for Ben’s glasses.

Maybe he means it as a question, maybe there’s a pitch to his voice that other people would have caught, but now it’s just this: Callum’s lips moving, and then his hands. The world goes blurry. 

Ben opens his mouth, a belated _‘don’t’_ on his lips, but he doesn’t get a chance to speak before they’re kissing. Callum tastes of toothpaste and his lips feel soft as they brush against Ben’s. His hands cup the back of Ben’s head, and Ben automatically pushes up and forward, until they’re chest to chest. He’s on his toes, and his hands find Callum’s shoulders, and the kiss is great. It’s perfect, and normally Ben would- 

Ben’s easy, yeah? Up for almost everything, almost all the time. 

But the world’s too blurry, and the world’s too quiet, and the few sounds that he picks up feel ominous. His chest feels funny, like someone’s sat on it, and he’s out of breath. Callum offers another kiss, this time to the side of Ben’s mouth, and his hands have made their way to Ben’s waist, his hips, his arse, and they’re warm and perfect but- 

Ben’s easy, yeah. Almost always. But- 

“Wait,” he blurts, and he doesn’t know how the word comes out, if it’s too loud or just too honest, but either way Callum lets go in a heartbeat, stepping away even as Ben stumbles back. There’s distance between them, which isn’t what Ben wanted, not really. He just needed a moment. Just a few seconds for his brain to catch up with everything. 

There’s a rumble, and he thinks maybe Callum’s speaking. He squints to try and make out his lips. Lip reading’s a guessing business even at the best of times, and Ben’s not even half as good at it as he’s been making out the past couple of weeks. Without his glasses though, well, he can’t even begin to make any sense of what Callum’s saying. Something – maybe the sudden cold – leaves him shivering. He wraps his arms around himself and tries to catch his breath. 

Deaf _and_ blind, he thinks, and the shivers turn into a shake. 

A hand on his shoulder. He’s herded backward. The edge of the bed hits the back of his knees and he sits down on the mattress. Callum kneels in front of him. A hand on each shoulder now, and there’s no way that Callum can miss just how bad Ben’s shaking. Another rumble. A huff of minty breath. Callum’s speaking, but Ben can’t bear to meet his eyes. 

Useless, he thinks. Worthless, he feels. 

Warm fingers brush against his cheeks. They cup his face and tilt his head up so that he’s no longer staring down at his own bare feet. Callum’s staring straight at him, just inches between them. Even blurry he looks worried, his forehead knit in a frown and his mouth turned down in the corners. 

“Ben,” he says, lips moving slowly. “What’s wrong?” 

Ben licks his lips. His mouth feels dry. He doesn’t know what he’s meant to answer. 

“I need my glasses,” he finally manages. “Can I have them… _please_?” 

A small part of him expects to be denied. To have them held above his head, just out of reach. And that makes no sense because he knows that Callum wouldn’t do that to him, not ever. Not any more than he would take his hearing aids or smack him on his good ear, just for the fun of it. 

Callum’s frown deepens, almost as if he can read Ben’s mind. 

“’Course,” he says, and then he’s gone, just across the room, just for a little while, but even so some stupid childish part of Ben begins to worry that he might not be back. 

He’s just about to call out for him when Callum returns and presses something hard and plastic into his hand. He puts the glasses back on, blinking as his sight adjusts. Callum comes back into focus, the details of his face clear again, and the room goes from distorted shapes into familiar surroundings. Even so, Ben’s heart keeps on pounding, and he feels cold, and miserable and stupid. Weak. Always so bloody weak. 

“Sorry,” he mutters. “I didn’t mean to…” 

He’s not sure how to finish the sentence. Doesn’t know how to explain. 

Callum’s hand squeezes his arm to get his attention. 

“No, I’m sorry,” he says, making his hand into a fist and circling it around his chest. “I shouldn’t have-“ 

Ben doesn’t catch the rest. He’s too tired. Too rattled. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he interrupts. “It’s nothing, yeah? Maybe we could just, you know, get to bed. I’m just…tired. Really fucking tired.” 

He pulls away, crawling across the bed. The duvet moves underneath him, and the mattress dips as Callum slides in next to him. If he’s saying something, if he wants to say something, then he’s all out of luck because Ben curls up on his side, glasses still on his nose. They dig into his face, and he knows that Callum deserves better, he knows that he’s being a proper shit, but he can’t make himself turn around, he just can’t. 

Strong arms slide around him and he’s pulled close so that his back’s against Callum’s chest. The duvet’s pulled up over them, and he can feel Callum breathing against his neck. They stay like that for ages, just breathing together. In and out, in and out. 

“Sorry,” Ben says again, and now that his chest doesn’t feel as tight anymore, the word comes out easier. “I just… it’s just… I couldn’t hear you and… I could barely see you and…” 

His eyes burn, and he blinks and blinks, but it doesn’t help. The tears still come. 

“I’m no good like this,” he forces out past numb lips. “That’s the thing, you know? I’m no good like this.” 

Callum’s arms tighten around him. They’re rocking, just a little, and Ben would never admit it, but it’s soothing. Part of him wants to say more. Wants to say that he’s never been good, that he’s never done anything good, that this is all a mistake anyway, that Ben Mitchell was meant to meet his end by the fists and boots of some thugs in Soho, only the gods had gone and fucked that right up, and now here they were. Ben in bed with yet another good man, ruining Callum’s life just as he’d ruined Paul’s. 

Instead, he just cries. And it hurts, crying that much and that hard, and the pillow gets wet with snot and tears. It’s ugly crying at its worst, but Callum holds him all through it. 

“Sorry,” Ben says, over and over, until his throat begins to hurt. 

And he thinks that maybe he’ll never stop crying, and he thinks that maybe the night will never end. He thinks that maybe Callum will leave. And he thinks that maybe that would serve him just right. 

xxx 

After Ben’s finally cried himself to sleep, Callum gently untangles himself. 

He wipes the tears away from his own face, then pads over to the bathroom and closes the door behind him. He sinks down on the toilet, buries his head into his hands, and just breathes. 

He tries to think forward, to plan what to do next, but he keeps coming back to Ben shaking apart in his arms, apologizing over and over, while Callum did his best to hold him together. Trying to get through to the other man, trying to offer some small token of comfort, but not getting through at all. 

“God damn,” he finally breathes, and pushes himself unsteadily to his feet so that he can go back and check on Ben. He’s still asleep, his face still flushed and damp. The glasses are wonky, digging cruelly into Ben’s skin, but Callum leaves them as they are. He might not have understood exactly what had just happened, but it had all started with him taking Ben’s glasses. 

Taking away the man’s sight, leaving him stuck inside his own head. 

The guilt almost chokes him again, and he grits his teeth against its onslaught as he crawls back into the bed and pulls the duvet over the two of them. Ben’s curled on his side still, and Callum gathers him up now, and holds him tight. He fits perfectly against Callum’s chest; warm, and soft, and small. Callum presses a kiss against the back of his head, and Ben makes a sleepy sound in reply. He tugs Callum’s arm even closer, holding on to him with hands that are strong and calloused. 

And Callum thinks that in moments like this one, when they lie tangled up together in a warm and safe place, they’re still just perfect. In moments like this one, it’s all too easy to believe that everything’s gonna be okay in the end. That the two of them will have a happy ending. 

Holding on to that hope, Callum eventually falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, it's neither elegant nor subtle. Let's just say that 2020 brings out the angst-writer in me ;)


End file.
